


FWD

by mhunter10



Series: Neathe [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Mention Of Suicide Attempt, Mild Racism, Original Character(s), Reunions, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 22:32:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8419738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: Mickey starts to realize that things are getting serious between he and Neathe, so naturally shit is going to hit the proverbial fan, right? Right.





	1. Chapter 1

This was it. This was what Mickey had been waiting for. That inevitable moment that only happened at the slightest sign of happiness. Which was what he was. Happy, that is. Fuck. They had a good run.

“You don’t like it?” Neathe asked from across his small table. He had invited Mickey over after being practically absent for two weeks. He seemed apologetic and nervous all night, repeatedly asking if everything was okay, including Mickey.

Mickey snapped out of his plaguing thoughts, swallowing the forgotten bite of flan in his mouth. He’d been fucking up since he got there. He was probably making whatever Neathe was going to say to him easy. He shook his head, preparing another bite. “No, it’s great. Just thought of something.”

“Oh,” Neathe said, taking a bite of the sweet dish he’d barely touched. He swallowed like he was ingesting sand and pushed it aside. He poured himself another glass of wine, offering Mickey some. Mickey held up his beer and hesitated before taking a sip. After gulping down half the glass, Neathe exhaled heavily, crossing his fingers in front of his face and looking down at the table for moral support. “Mickey,” he started.

Shit. Here we go. The final blow, right on time. Mickey set his spoon down, abandoning the homemade severance dessert. His lips tasted sweet, unlike the encroaching moment.

“Are you happy?” Neathe asked, not looking up.

Mickey nodded then said, For the most part, yeah. Life’s good.“

Neathe thought about that then shook his head. "I mean with us,” he met Mickey’s eyes.

Mickey sighed, pushing his chair back and looking to the ceiling for help. Why was he asking him this? Why couldn’t he just get it over with? The longer Mickey took to answer, the more that answer seemed like no. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. It was the exact opposite. Mickey could remember the last time he was happy, but he couldn’t remember when he felt comfortable enough to let himself be happy. Sure, Yevgeny brought him joy but that was parental. He’d wanted more, sought it out even. He was ready to feel those feelings again, and he felt them with Neathe. He was good. And they were so good. It felt easy, but there was still a challenge and it was exciting.

So, yes. Mickey was fucking happy. And now it was going to be ripped away like before; right from under him just when he was settling into the overwhelming comfort and understanding and patience and warmth and fun and…. No, he couldn’t let himself even think that four letter word. Not at the end.

“Mickey?” Neathe got up and took the chair beside him, looking him in the face. “Mick–”

“Spit it out,” Mickey cut him off.

Neathe actually laughed. Usually a sound that made butterflies in Mickey’s stomach, now felt like stones. He looked up at him, convinced this was not the man he’d been dating for nine months. Mickey stared into his face, fighting the urge to touch his cheek, the birthmark on his jaw, his lips. He should want to punch him, but instead he wants to punch himself.

Neathe sighed, reaching for Mickey’s hand. He traced his knuckles with his thumb. “Only reason I’m asking is because…well, I’m going to Philadelphia.”

Mickey stared at him. So he was physically leaving, but what did that have to do with whether Mickey was happy or not? Clearly he’d already planned to go, so why drag it out? He wasn’t going to give him permission to drop him for something better. He took his hand back.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Neathe said.

“Do you?” Mickey can’t help but snap. He’s over it and it hasn’t happened yet. He didn’t want Neathe thinking he had to break it to him slow and gentle. They weren’t fucking. “I get it. Do what you gotta do, man. Thanks for dinner.” He got up and quickly headed for the door.

“No, Mickey, you don’t understand,” Neathe caught him and made him look at him. “I want you to go with me.”


	2. Chapter 2

“What?” Mickey said.

Neathe chuckled, “I’m asking you to go with me, Mickey.” He hugged Mickey to him until he felt the tension slowly leave his shoulders.

Mickey stepped back, searching his (still) boyfriend’s face. “This what all of this was about?”

Doubt crept onto Neathe’s face and he let Mickey go. “Well, only if you want to go, that is.”

A beat passed before Mickey laughed in relief and disbelief. He went back to the table and downed his beer, shaking his head as he wiped his mouth. Of fucking course. The dinner, the awkwardness, the damn flan. He’d been a wreck the while time, expecting the other shoe to drop directly on his head and kill him instantly. He laughed again, turning back to Neathe who looked skeptical and amused by his behavior.

“For how long?” Mickey asked.

Neathe’s smile was back in a heartbeat. “Is that a yes?” he wrapped his arms around Mickey tight, eager to kiss him.

Mickey laughed, suddenly giddy. “It’s a maybe, doofus,” he didn’t dodge Neathe’s hopeful kiss, looping his arm around his neck.

“It’s a four day trip. My job was asked to send three people to a convention,” Neathe explained.

“And let me guess, the three were the ones that worked their asses off for two weeks?” Mickey raised his eyebrow, giving him a look.

Neathe ducked his head, sighing into Mickey’s chest before looking back up through his lashes. “I’m really sorry, Mickey.”

Mickey took his face in his hands, doing what he wanted to do when he thought it would be his last chance. He kissed him slow and deliberate. Yeah, those two weeks had sucked major dick, and not in a good way. At first, it was less seeing each other. Then less texts and calls. Mickey tried to be understanding but at some point something shifted. He started to resent Neathe for making him feel like a stage five clingy boyfriend. Neathe hadn’t kept a promise, they hadn’t had sex in days, tension was high and Neathe eventually snapped. They’d fought and not spoken for a day. Definitely the lowest point in their relationship. Mickey had never seen the other man angry to the point he wasn’t speaking English. It was frustrating and Mickey said something he was ashamed to think about now, but it happened and then they were fine. However, there was a small fear lingering in him that had obviously come to a head that night.

Mickey kissed him again. “Me too,” he said, smoothing his jaw with more kisses. He grinned when he felt Neathe relax against him and smile. “When do we leave?”

Neathe looked up with wide eyes, practically bursting at the seams. “You’ll go?” Mickey nodded then laughed loudly when Neathe picked him up and spun him around. It was weird with their similar stature, but they didn’t care. They giggled as they stumbled into the bedroom, landing on the bed in a heap.

They stopped for a moment to catch their breath, looking at each other. It hit them hard that they hadn’t been together like this for a while. They didn’t waste any more time, crashing their lips together and only breaking away to take off clothes. Soon they were naked, pulling each other up the bed. Hands and arms and legs were everywhere, tangling in the sheets until they discarded them altogether. Mickey flipped them so he was on top, kissing and rubbing down Neathe’s body til he was between his legs. He was moaning and writhing under him, gasping out Mickey’s name when he finally took him in his mouth. Mickey sucked and bobbed his head, loving the feeling of fingers in his hair pulling and encouraging him.

Just when he was getting close, Neathe pulled Mickey up and kissed him sloppily. Mickey groaned when he licked at his neck while beginning to stroke him. Neathe rolled them slightly, wrapping Mickey’s thigh around his and grabbing at his ass. Mickey was panting heavily, eyes fluttering and hips rutting when fingers found his entrance. He whimpered, pulling Neathe into a desperately clingy kiss. He didn’t give a shit, he was just so glad it was even happening. He’d been so scared he would never get to touch and feel him like this again, that he wanted it all right here right now. Neathe crooned in his ear, knowing exactly what to say and what to do. He entered Mickey quickly, just as eager to give him what he wanted, but he was still careful and Mickey let out a satisfied sigh.

They smiled into another kiss. Happy for things to be back to normal.


	3. Chapter 3

“It’s only going to be a couple days, Yev. You’re not going to die,” Mickey said, over his son’s dramatics. He was getting in the way of his last minute packing.

“But, dad,” Yevgeny drew out in a whine, “What about practice, and Jennie’s party and…and…”

Mickey sighed, chuckling. He stuffed a pair of swim trunks into the remaining space in his suitcase, then turned to his son. He was lying back on the bed staring blankly at the ceiling fan. Mickey hovered over him. “You’ll be fine, kid. Mom’s a better dad than me anyway.”

“Not with everything,” Yev grumbled.

Mickey kissed his forehead then ruffled his long black hair. It seemed like they’d only got it cut a week ago, and it was already back to where it was. “Tell that to her, would you? Now get up, you’re laying on my boxers.”

“Ew!” Yev got up from the bed and shook off invisible cooties.

Mickey scoffed,“Relax, they’re clean. How do I look?” he asked, holding his arms out so the boy could appraise him.

“Really good,” Yevgeny said after a moment.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Mickey glared. He looked in the mirror and ran a hand down his shirt. It was just a basic blue V-neck, but it was vastly different from what he’d been wearing most of his life. He didn’t have bad style, because no sleeves was definitely a style, but he had accidentally worn one of Neathe’s shirts home thinking it was his and it literally stuck with him.

“I’m serious, dad. You look good. But how do I look?” Yev could barely keep a straight face.

Mickey laughed, “Like a dweeb. Let’s get going.” He ushered the boy out the room, taking his suitcase with them.

“Where’s Neathe taking us anyway?”

“I don’t know, but he said you’d like it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Yev said, putting his jacket on.

“Yeah, alright, tough guy.” Mickey pushed him out the door and to the car.

The restaurant they met Neathe at was authentic Italian. It smelled like olive oil and oregano, and the tables had red checkered cloths on them. There was a brick oven visible from the cozy dining area. It was busy but not packed, so they spotted the other man at a small booth in the corner.

Neathe got up when he saw them, smiling wide. “Hey guys!” He shook the preteen’s hand then turned to Mickey, taking his face in his hands and giving him a quick kiss. He stepped back and took in his boyfriend. “Is that my shirt?” he laughed.

Mickey flushed red, laughing nervously. “Oh, yeah…must have followed me home?”

Neathe rolled his eyes jokingly, taking Mickey’s waist. “I’ve been looking for that.”

“Well, you can take it back tomorrow,” Mickey raised an eyebrow, giving him a look. Neathe looked like he wanted to do it right that instant.

“Are you guys done making googly eyes, or do I have to eat all this bread myself?” Yev cut through their staring contest.

“I take it you approve of this place, Yevgeny?” Neathe asked the boy, as he and Mickey sat down. Mickey sat next to his son because this was his night to spend with his dad, but occasionally he would squeeze Mickey’s thigh under the table. Yev nodded, stuffing more bread into his mouth. “Well, don’t get too full. They have the best canolli’s here.”

Mickey smiled at the way Yevgeny’s face lit up. He couldn’t believe there had been a time when he was nervous for he and Neathe to meet. Of course he had his reasons, but they seemed sort of silly now. Neathe was amazing with him, and Yev certainly liked him. It took some convincing for Mickey to believe him, but it was clear in moments like this when they all hung out. It was becoming a frequent occurrence for them, and Mickey couldn’t be happier. They always had a fun time no matter what they did, but what did it for Mickey was just watching them interact. The feelings he had for Neathe seemed to double when he saw how much he cared about the kid already. It made him nervous, but also amazed. Yevgeny laughed at something Neathe said, making Mickey grin.

Neathe tickled Mickey’s knee and winked at him. He was trying so hard with Yev and it showed. The dinner had been his idea, and he was determined to make it good to make up for taking Mickey away. Mickey was glad he was having a fun time, feeling a little guilty for leaving as all parents do at least when they’re young.

They ordered their food and ate and talked and laughed. It was a great way to spend the evening, especially when dessert came. Mickey and Neathe shared looks the whole time, sometimes even catching the other staring with a dopey smile.

“So, can I come next time?” Yevgeny asked, as the three of them walked to the car. He smiled hopefully up at Neathe.

Neathe chuckled, but patted his shoulder. “We’ll go somewhere better,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “…ever been to the beach?”

“No!” Yev answered excitedly, looking to Mickey like it might be a cruel joke between them. “Can we?” he asked.

Mickey shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t know, dude. Saw your last report card,” he teased.

Yev sucked his teeth. “Dad, I’ve had good grades since kindergarten. And don’t say my room isn’t clean, because we made a deal.”

“Got me there, kid,” Mickey jabbed at him. He was acutely aware of his boyfriend watching them with amusement. He gave him a look so he knew he wasn’t just a jerk. They got to the car and prepared to go their separate ways.

Neathe got on Yevgeny’s level and zipped his jacket. “Promise we’ll go somewhere cool this summer, okay?”

Yev nodded, going into the man’s hug without a second thought.

Mickey stood by and waited for them to say goodbye, fighting the urge to yank Neathe to him and say something he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to hear. Yev thankfully got in the car, leaving them alone.

“You know, you should keep the shirt,” Neathe said, pulling Mickey to him by his waist.

Mickey bit his lip, eyes darting all over the man’s face. “That takes the fun out of you taking it back, doesn’t it?”

Neathe suddenly kissed Mickey like he couldn’t hold back any longer, catching him off guard. When he pulled away too soon, everything in Mickey wanted to follow; seeking out his lips and huffing when he didn’t get them.

“I promise you, it doesn’t,” Neathe said hotly in his ear.

Mickey shuddered, pressing close to Neathe’s heat. He wanted his mouth again, but he also wanted to deny himself the satisfaction. “Making a lot of promises tonight,” he says, not sure what answer he’s expecting.

“Lucky for you, I’m a man of my word,” Neathe kissed Mickey again before he could speak.

“Fuck,” Mickey panted, pushing him away weakly, making them both smirk, “tomorrow?”

“Can’t wait,” Neathe said, backing away slowly. His fingertips hung onto Mickey’s sides like they were a cliff.

Mickey didn’t get to sleep until the early morning hours, too amped up to rest easy.

In a few hours, he would be in a different place with Neathe.


End file.
